Obsidian and Dragon's Blood
by LittleMulattoKitten
Summary: It was unlucky to be born with brown eyes...
1. Chapter 1

_These precious things_

 _Let them bleed_

 _Let them wash away_

 _These precious things_

 _let them break_

 _Their hold over me_

 _Precious Things — Tori Amos_

* * *

It was unlucky to be born with brown eyes. The commonness of it, the frequency for which it appeared, made it one of those things parents told their children not to worry about. Surely it wouldn't affect them as much as people assumed. They'd still be able to find their soul mate, should they have one.

It was when the child's limbal rings – the rings around their irises that separated the color from the whites – was _black_ that parents had a much harder time pretending nothing was wrong. Children born with black limbal rings either had soul mates with incredibly dark eyes or, more often than not, had no soul mate at all. Instances of both scenarios were not unheard of, but certainly not common enough to prevent rumors and legends. It was, however, much more likely for one to be without a mate than it was for someone to have eyes quite so dark in color, immediately marking the rare occurrences as bad omens.

Hermione had never really paid her eyes, deep brown with their ominous rings of black, very much attention. She preferred her studies to the company of boys and boys preferred...many things to her.

She'd taught herself not to care.

Through the years, she became better at ignoring the pitying stares that people gave her after they got a good look at her eyes. She grit her teeth when difficult career paths were encouraged under the silently blaring insinuation that such time consuming work would be perfect for a _single_ , intelligent young woman.

Viktor Krum had been the only time she'd hoped for a mate to call her own. His eyes were the right shade, only his limbal rings were just a bit too light, closer to a honey brown than Hermione's mashup of dark brown, deep maroon, and whiskey. Realizing that there was no pull of a bond for either of them had been devastating and Hermione had redoubled her efforts to focus solely on her studies afterwards. She didn't have a mate and it didn't matter. She didn't need one.

In fifth year, Harry discovered that his green eyes with their bands of grey were reversed in Draco Malfoy. Naturally, the revelation led to the Malfoy's defecting from Voldemort's ranks almost immediately, putting them under the protection of the Order and resulting in an amusingly awkward six-month adjustment period for the boys. Ronald had begrudgingly come around to Draco joining their group, since he understood that Harry had no control over who his soul mate was, and it helped that Draco's attitude changed considerably in light of the situation.

It went unspoken in seventh year when Draco and Hermione were appointed as Head Boy and Head Girl, that Harry would practically live in the dorm with them. Hermione had smirked when she noticed some of Harry's knickknacks had found new homes around the common room by the end of the first week of term. She was happy for them. She was happy that Harry had something positive and stable in his life that he could count on no matter what happened with the impending war.

She was _fine_. Her best friend was happy, she was pleased with her academic progress, and had long since accepted her mate-less state. She was as content as one could be with a dark wizard and a war on the horizon.

At least, she was content until she turned eighteen.

Despite the phenomenon being well known, there was a mysterious effect on bonds when mates met prior to one or both parties' magical maturity. Once that maturity was reached at seventeen, the potential to cause significant strain and damage to the bond became a dangerous risk. As most witches and wizards could sense and recognize their mates on sight — or in Harry and Draco's case, after puberty settled — damaging the bond was impossible to do consciously. However, there were cases where one or both mates didn't recognize one another, leading to joint suffering from Mate Deprivation Disorder — MDD — until the straining actions ceased or came to some sort of resolution.

There was a grace period of sorts where, for one year's time after reaching magical maturity, the recently matured witch or wizard would not develop MDD symptoms despite any straining or damaging behaviors. During this time, that strain would build, surfacing only at the end of that year with a fierce intensity. As far as most medical professionals had been able to determine, the aggressive nature of the grace period ending was meant to force a sense of urgency upon both mates in an effort to bring them together. Very rarely did young witches and wizards reach this suffering point, but those who did tended to find and reconcile with their mates with understandable haste.

There weren't enough cases of mates failing to mend their bond for conclusive medical research to be conducted, but mates who were forced apart for extended periods of time would develop MDD. If left separated or in any state that strained and damaged their bond for extended periods of time, all historical examples of such tragedies pointed to certain death for the mated pair.

Aside from being irritated, Hermione didn't think much of the splitting headache that greeted her the morning of her birthday. She glared at Harry when he kept peppering her with softly spoken questions of concern as she, Harry, and Draco made their way towards breakfast. Unfortunately, the longer they walked, the worse she felt, and she didn't feel like to go to the hospital wing. She'd just grab a pain potion from her trunk before they went to classes if eating didn't help.

Hermione hadn't been expecting the pain to increase exponentially when they entered the Great Hall. She stopped in the threshold, her body going rigid with shock in response to the sudden spike in pain, and wondered why Harry's lips were moving when he wasn't making any sound. All she could hear was a horrible ringing as she squinted against the too-bright light of the room. Hands held her shoulders as she shut her eyes and tried to focus on breathing…

Darkness beckoned and Hermione answered its call without hesitation.

 **A/N: My planned posting schedule for this is Tuesday & Thursday afternoons. _Although,_ I may be overwhelmed with an aura of generosity on Sundays from time to time... **


	2. Chapter 2

_I love the way that your heart breaks_

 _With every injustice and deadly fate_

 _Praying it all will be new_

 _And living like it all depends on you_

 _Here you are down on your knees again_

 _Trying to find air to breathe again_

 _And only surrender will help you now_

 _I love you_

 _Please see I believe again_

 _Again – Flyleaf_

* * *

The pain had lessened marginally when Hermione woke up in the hospital wing sometime later. Draco and Harry were sitting next to her bed while Madame Pomfrey was setting vials on the table beside her. When she noticed Hermione was awake, one of said vials was passed to her with a stern glance before the mediwitch briefly dipped into her office.

She recognized the potion immediately. _Opius Kratus_ was a potion with many names. The Draught of Lightless Black. Styx's Kiss. Dram of Painless Death. Highly controlled due to its addictive properties and the complexity of brewing the potion itself, this particular pain potion was only given in circumstances too severe to be handled by standard brews.

A tremor went through Hermione's lips as she carefully drank the dose of dark violet potion.

When Madame Pomfrey returned, she took the vial with a quiet nod. "You're to come to me thrice a day as needed," she said gently. "I take it you're unaware of the identity of your mate, Miss Granger?"

Tears prickled at the edges of her eyes as Hermione nodded. A spike of pain through her temples made her regret the action instantly. "I didn't think I had one," she said quietly.

"I'd feared that may be the case..." Madam Pomfrey said, her expression softening. "I will be alerting your professors of your condition, as I'm sure you're already at least somewhat aware of what's in store should the strain on your bond continue?"

Hermione nodded weakly.

"Would I be wasting my breath by explaining the urgency of your situation?"

Another nod.

When Hermione was released a short while later, Harry and Draco were surprised she was being let go so soon. Madame Pomfrey's obvious reluctance as they left did little to soothe their nerves.

"Any blokes you fancy whose eye color we need to check?" Draco asked as the trio made their way towards Ancient Runes.

"Or witches," Harry added.

"No," Hermione answered, MDD caused fatigue weighing her down. She suspected it would only get worse over time. "Aside from fourth year, I've never even considered people as potential partners. I don't even know where to start."

Sharing a quiet glance, Harry and Draco frowned at one another, choosing to stay quiet for the rest of their walk.

* * *

 _And if you feel you're sinking_

 _I will jump right over_

 _Into cold, cold water for you_

 _And although time may take us_

 _Into different places_

 _I will still be patient with you_

 _Cold Water – Major Lazer Ft. MØ & Justin Bieber_

* * *

The Opius Kratus made her lingering headache close enough to bearable for Hermione to get through Ancient Runes, but as they neared the Great Hall for lunch, the less effective the potion became. It should've lasted several more hours at the very least.

"You look like you're going to faint again," Harry said worriedly, forcing the three of them to a stop in the main hall.

Her jaw tightened as frustrated tears started to burn in her eyes. "I need to eat," she muttered, sounding whinier than she would've liked.

"Dobby can bring us food in the Heads' suite," said Draco. "It doesn't help you to knowingly hurt yourself."

"How about this," Harry offered, "Draco goes and asks Madame Pomfrey what could be causing you to feel worse in the great hall and we go back to the suite for a night in, yeah? It's not like we have any more classes today."

Hermione was in too much pain to fight them and consented, letting Harry lead her back towards their suite. Her pain didn't relent until Draco returned with another dose of Opius from Madame Pomfrey.

 **A/N: You guys are just the sweetest, by the way.**


	3. Chapter 3

_Please, please forgive me,_

 _But I won't be home again._

 _Maybe someday you'll look up,_

 _And, barely conscious, you'll say to no one,_

 _"Isn't something missing?"_

 _Missing - Evanescence_

* * *

The voiding reaction on her pain potion was a proximity effect, Madam Pomfrey speculated. An effect caused by a block of some sort between her and her mate, resulting in severe pain (only for Hermione apparently, as no one else in the castle had come forward with terrible pain) whenever she got near her mate.

Hermione could no longer take meals in the Great Hall. There were times where she'd stop dead in the middle of a corridor, suddenly overtaken by pain, before the intensity would fade as distance from her mate would be reestablished. The pain would only be lessened to a tolerable level when she took the potion, but its effects were rendered null as soon as she got to close to her mate again.

It didn't make sense. Madam Pomfrey was at a loss by Wednesday afternoon.

"I'm going to speak with the Headmaster," she announced _gently_ , as not to cause Hermione any further discomfort by speaking too loudly. "Your mate is somewhere in this castle and _somehow_ they are entirely, or perceivably, unaffected by Mate Deprivation Disorder all together." The mediwitch sighed in frustration. "We'll get it straightened out... I know you're determined to continue going to classes, but please come back after your next class."

Hermione agreed, feeling just as helpless as she had all week, and tried to focus on the mild relief the pain potion was starting to provide.

"The sooner we get you off the _Opius Kratus_ the better," Pomfrey added with a frown as Draco, Harry, and Hermione left the hospital wing.

"Hopefully sorting this all out doesn't require something horribly embarrassing," Harry sighed as they made their way towards the dungeons.

"Prophet knows already," Hermione mumbled.

"They'll spin it like a tragic love story in the end and everyone will forget about it. And if they don't I'll threaten them until they do," Draco said. "Lord knows Weasley barely acknowledges it, as is."

"Quidditch," Harry and Hermione said together.

"He could still _pretend_ he's concerned instead of letting his discomfort get the best of him."

Hermione stopped trying to make her meager contributions to their discussion when they got to the stairs, which she had to take much slower than she cared to lest she lose her balance. Even with a fresh dose of potion in her system she felt utterly horrible again by the time they reached the base of the stairs.

Harry noticed her expression tighten in pain. "You've just had potion," he said, his own features pinching together in frustration as he tried to be discreet about wrapping an arm around her shoulders to help her stay upright.

"I can take you back upstairs," Draco offered. "I'm Head Boy and a Slytherin. Snape will be less cross with me for being late than he will be with either of you."

A quietly growled ' _No_ ' was Hermione's answer. Despite wanting to argue, the boys lead her towards the potion's classroom in a heavy silence.

* * *

 _You won't cry for my absence, I know_

 _You forgot_ _me_ _long ago._

 _Am I that unimportant...?_

 _Am I so insignificant...?_

 _Isn't something missing?_

 _Isn't someone missing me?_

 _Missing - Evanescence_

* * *

Hermione was shaking by the time Harry helped her sit down. Draco put her bag beside her as Harry took the seat on her right. Draco took the empty seat beside Harry's, glaring at onlookers when Hermione pressed the heels of her hands into her temples and clawed at her scalp. She was just barely aware of Harry rubbing her back, a small token of comfort.

"You can't brew like this, 'Mione," he said quietly.

She couldn't, but she'd have to, and she was just about to attempt telling him so when the pain skyrocketed. It felt like someone had driven an axe down the middle of her head, following the symmetry line of her face, and another one horizontally through her eyes. She heard, but did not feel, her forehead hit the lab table as she fell forward.

" _Hermione—_ "

The two surge points in her head throbbed, starting and keeping a steady, nauseatingly painful beat. A whine escaped her before she could stop it and she clenched her jaw shut as tightly as she could consciously manage. She assumed her efforts were successful when the faint taste of copper reached her tongue. Godric forbid she make a sound, especially when the sharp, familiar tapping of Professor Snape's boots against stone followed him through the room and reverberated in her skull like a drum from the deepest layers of hell.

Hermione realized that she had to try to survive the class to some degree and made the effort of opening her eyes at the same time she made the mistake of slowly lifting her head. Of course, that was when Professor Snape chose to talk.

"Open your textbooks to page six-hundred and thirty-one. We will be continuing last week's lesson on the theory and composition of advanced medicinal potions. Now, who can tell me the difference between advanced pain potions and advanced sedatives?"

His tone was dry, low, and as full of impatient condescension as it always was, but now it echoed on a seemingly endless loop in her mind. A loop that was made of razor blades instead of sound waves.

His question was met with silence. In that time, Hermione's vision blurred, faded out, and begrudgingly returned. Nearly all of her will was focused on staying conscious.

* * *

 **AN: Happy Tuesday, lovely people. To everyone asking questions in your reviews (I love hearing you guys speculate what's going on and trying to figure things out, by the way), I haven't replied to any of you because you're all asking questions that will be explained in the next 2-4 updates... :)**

 **P.S. There will only be 3 chapters as short as this one between now and the end of this fic, based on my plans. And I expect this to be about 14 chapters long, so there will be more 1k+ length chapters than not.**


	4. Chapter 4

_Even though I'm the sacrifice,_

 _You won't try for me, not now._

 _Though I'd die to know you love me,_

 _I'm all alone._

 _Isn't someone_ _missing_ _me?_

 _Missing -_ _Evanescence_

* * *

" _No one_ knows?" Snape taunted. "Not a _soul_?"

Harry pinched Hermione's leg under the table in a vain attempt to stop her from raising a shaking hand. As expected, Snape ignored her.

"No one… _else_ knows?"

Her arm ached. Professor Snape sighed heavily, though he may as well have embedded a knife into the back of her head.

"Miss…Granger…" he said, his disappointment and resignation as clear as the scowl on his face, as sharp as the pain in her temples.

"Opium, Sir," she said quietly, thankful that she could put her hand down at last. "Advanced pain potions are usually opiates."

A dark brow twitched upwards as she, somewhat unwillingly, held his gaze from across the room. "Do my ears deceive me?" he asked. "A short and concise answer from the Head Girl?"

The chuckles from her classmates, mostly the Slytherins, sawed at her temples.

Miraculously, Snape wasted no further time taunting her after her lack of reaction and continued his lesson without further comment.

Hermione didn't raise her hand again.

* * *

 _Please, please forgive me,_

 _But I won't be home again._

 _I know what you do to yourself,_

 _I breathe deep and cry out,_

 _"Isn't_ _something missing?_

 _Isn't_ _someone missing me?"_

 _Missing -_ _Evanescence_

* * *

The rest of the class was nothing short of unbearable. Hermione didn't absorb a single word of the lecture since every syllable Snape uttered was like a knife sent to slice around in her head. She was shaking so badly by brewing time that Harry refused to let her cut any of their ingredients lest she cut herself instead, and she was too weak to use the pestle and mortar. Her impact on their potion was minor at best, but Harry made her look busy to keep Snape away. At most, the only helpful thing she'd managed to do was stir their cauldron.

"We're taking you up to Pomfrey," Harry whispered as he decanted their finished, slightly more than _adequate_ potion. "This doesn't make any sense."

"I just want to lie down," she breathed, nearly too weak to even bother trying to speak. "I just want out of here."

Draco and his lab partner — Hermione had no idea who had sat with him— finished faster than Harry and Hermione did, and he used his extra time to help them start packing up. Draco grabbed Hermione's things with ease, slinging her bags over his shoulder alongside his own, and put a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Come on," he said, "let's get you out of here, yeah?"

Standing proved to be a greater challenge than they had anticipated. By the time Hermione was finally upright, she had her hands braced on the table, Draco was holding her shoulder and waist to help her balance, and her entire body was shaking uncontrollably.

She wanted to cry again.

"Kill me," she whispered.

"Harry'd be cross with me if I did," Draco responded, his tone worried and sad. "Sorry, love."

She tried to appreciate his attempt at humor, but slowly shuffling out of the room took up what little mental focus she had left as he followed them, Harry made a point to glower at any and everyone who stared after his best friend and boyfriend until the doors shut behind them.

Hermione blacked out before they made it to the stairs.

* * *

 _And if I bleed, I'll bleed,_

 _Knowing_ _you don't care._

 _And if I sleep just to dream of you_

 _I'll wake without you there,_

 _Isn't_ _something missing?_

 _Isn't something..._

 _Missing – Evanescence_

* * *

 **Some of you are very, very good at reading between the lines...You haven't figured everything out, but your reviews are an even greater joy to read.**


	5. Chapter 5

_Cause I'd really like to_  
 _See your lightning shining brightly through a haze_  
 _And little slings and arrows, smoke and mirrors_  
 _Blue and icy, meet my gaze_  
 _Boom, my heart bursts, like a blood clot_  
 _Slow to get up, hard to say_  
 _You fill my head with madness_  
 _Good and bad, don't be the one who got away, got away_

 _What If I Go? — Mura Masa_

* * *

She woke up pressed against someone warm, firm, and soft all at the same time. Her head felt like it was full of fissures and cracks, but the pain was focused at those points rather than coursing through her entire skull, making it slightly more tolerable. Arms were wrapped around her torso, keeping her from doing more than tilting her head towards her captor.

Harry's cheeks were tear stained and his green eyes were rimmed with red.

"You scared the hell out of me," he said quietly.

"Sorry," she managed. "What happened?"

Draco's voice came from somewhere behind her. "You blacked out again. I went and got Madame Pomfrey once we got you back here. She checked you over. Wanted us to bring you to the Headmaster when you woke up."

Hermione nodded carefully and shifted so she could stand. It became apparent very quickly that she could not do so on her own with any level of stability. Before she could protest, Harry cast a quick weightlessness charm and picked her up. Draco disillusioned all three of them as they left their common room. Hermione assumed it was rather late since there didn't seem to be many people roaming the halls.

"What about dinner?" she asked them quietly. "I don't think I could eat if I wanted to, but you need to."

"Half over," Draco told her. "You've been out for a few hours. Dobby brought us food."

Hermione sighed heavily and didn't bother trying to argue. She doubted either of them would listen to her anyway.

As they neared their destination, her brief semi-reprieve from the full intensity of her MDD migraine ended with a harsh suddenness. Harry glanced at her with a worried frown when a whimper escaped her.

"She's going to faint again if we keep going," he told Draco. "I'm taking her to an empty classroom. Pomfrey and the Headmaster will just have to come to us."

The room Harry picked took them away from the source of Hermione's discomfort, if only marginally, but it was enough for her to regain a bit of normal functionality. Draco helped them set up privacy wards and a few layers of silencing charms just in case her pain spiked again before he headed back towards the door.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," Draco promised as he slipped out of the room, leaving Harry and Hermione on a newly transfigured couch.

"You don't have to hold me," Hermione muttered, her voice rough and unconvincing even to her own ears.

"I'm going to," Harry replied mulishly. His arms tightened around her as if to prove his point. "You're my best friend and you're suffering and there's nothing else I can do to help except this. And I don't even know for certain if physical affection helps anyway."

"It's better than hurting alone," she admitted. "I'm sorry." She wasn't quite sure what she was apologizing for, but the words needed to be said.

Harry snorted bitterly. " _You're_ sorry? You've no reason to be. I'm not the one who found out about my soulmate on my _birthday_ when our bond decided to attack my brain."

Her lips twitched, though they were unsuccessful in maintaining a smile for very long. "Naturally, I have a soulmate who doesn't want me. It's not like the whole bloody school doesn't know by now."

"And most people already knew about your eyes," Harry agreed, sighing. "We'll figure it out, 'Mione. It's not possible for your soulmate to _not_ want you."

She shifted just enough to give him a tired stare, making him chuckle. "I'm not feeling very excited about mine at the moment and I have no idea who they are," she said.

"Well," he said, "the minute you found out you had one you got such a bad headache that you blacked out. And you didn't even know you had a soulmate to want before. It's difficult to miss something, someone, when you didn't even know they were missing from your life to begin with."

She shrugged, laying her head against his shoulder again as her temples and the back of her head started to prickle a bit more noticeably. "You'd think they'd realize what was happening to me, though," she murmured. "You'd think they'd care enough to say something…"

"It might be more complicated that than, 'Mione," he said softly. "They'll love you. That's just how it works. You'll just have an adjustment period like Draco and I did."

Her amused snort was interrupted by a groan of pain as the prickling in her head turned into throbbing again. She couldn't bite back the whine that left her as, hardly a moment later, the throbbing became the splitting pain she'd suffered earlier in the day.

"On a scale of 'just had Opius Kratus' to 'Potions' how bad is it?" Harry asked gently.

"Potions," she hissed through clenched teeth. " _Please stop_."

Harry realized that her plea was directed towards her pain, or the source of it, and gently rubbed circles on her back.

"I'm sorry this is happening, 'Mione," he said. "We'll fix it, I promise."

She screwed her eyes tightly shut and groaned again as the pain kept increasing. Her ears started to ring as Harry's voice faded out, sounding both far away and underwater until she couldn't make out his words anymore. If she opened her eyes, she imagined the world would vary between dark and out of focus.

So she left them closed.

Draco entered the room a few moments later with Professor Dumbledore, Madame Pomfrey, and Professor Snape close behind him, cursing when he caught sight of his teary-eyed boyfriend and the broken witch in his arms. Harry was holding a handkerchief to Hermione's slowly bleeding nose.

"I don't think she can hear me," Harry said, his voice wavering. "She's still awake I think, but…"

Pomfrey pushed past all of them and kneeled in front of Harry and Hermione, her wand already out and casting diagnostic charms on the ill witch.

Draco tried to make a mental note that he needed to tease Harry at some point for picking up his habit of always carrying a handkerchief. Preferably when Harry's best mate wasn't quite possibly dying in his arms.

* * *

 **Happy Birthday to the weirdo I wrote this fic for. Love you babe.**

 **To you lovely readers, your reviews have been both entertaining and a joy to read. Your speculations are just the greatest.**


	6. Chapter 6

_I never knew_

 _I never knew that everything was falling through_

 _That everyone I knew was waiting on a cue_

 _To turn and run when all I needed was the truth_

 _But that's how it's got to be_

 _It's coming down to nothing more than apathy_

 _I'd rather run the other way than stay and see_

 _The smoke and who's still standing when it clears_

 _Over My Head (Cable Car) – The Fray_

* * *

"This is certainly a conundrum," Albus said, frowning as Pomfrey looked over Hermione. "Any other ideas Poppy?"

The mediwitch's tone was stiff when she replied. "This does nothing but support my initial theory, Albus."

"And what theory is that, exactly?" Snape asked dryly. "Since Mister Malfoy fetched us before the need for my presence was _explained_."

Harry had to bite his cheek to keep from snapping at their clearly unconcerned professor and Draco looked to be feeling about the same way when he came over to gently sit beside Harry on the couch.

Pomfrey stood and turned towards Snape sharply, fixing him with a glare that echoed how both boys currently felt about the taciturn potions master. "You cannot possibly be quite this foolish, Severus."

Snape's eyes narrowed. "As it happens, _Madame_ , I'm at a loss as to why I'm even _here_ , as I've said."

"Your eyes," Pomfrey snapped. "Are so unusually dark, aren't they, Severus?"

Severus's gaze darkened further and his already looming posture seemed to become twice as foreboding. "You cannot possibly be insinuating—"

Madame Pomfrey interrupted him with a dangerous glint of her own in her glare. "I've patched you up more times than I care to count, Severus. I know good and damn well that your eyes are the darkest brown I've ever seen, quite easily classified as being _black_ by those uneducated in the biologically feasible ranges of eye colors. And your limbal rings are quite a lovely shade of dark brown. A dark, whiskey-hued brown in the right lighting, I dare say." Poppy met Severus's withering look with one of her own. "Interestingly enough, Miss Granger was under the impression that she was mateless due to her _black_ , or very near to, limbal rings and her rather dark amber brown eyes."

Snape only continued to glower in silence and Poppy gave him a smug, though still threatening, look. "Let us do a bit of simple arithmetic, shall we, Severus? One, Miss Granger cannot get within a certain, undetermined proximity to her mate without being reduced to her current state, helped by an unknown block on her bond to said mate. Two, Miss Granger has only been reduced to a state of this severity under a few specific circumstances: While attempting to visit the Great Hall for meals and, according to what I learned from Misters Potter and Malfoy this afternoon, while in _your_ classroom."

"Significant age differences between mates are rare," said Dumbledore in a soothing tone. "But it most commonly occurs between individuals of significant magical power and skill, which both Severus and Miss Granger possess."

"And yet," Severus said, his voice dangerously calm. "I feel nothing towards the girl."

Madame Pomfrey rolled her eyes. "What part of 'unknown block on the bond' escaped your comprehension, Severus?"

Harry had a sudden moment of clarity that caused him to speak up before Severus could unleash his famously scathing temper. "Occlumency," he said quietly, causing all eyes to turn towards him. "It's because he's a master occlumens, isn't it?"

Madame Pomfrey nodded firmly, giving Harry a somewhat proud, if not tight, smile. "While I don't believe occlumency is the sole cause, I believe it plays a part in this situation."

Sparing a glance at his head of house, Draco wondered if Snape was as close to slaughtering all of them as he looked.

"Then there is an easy remedy," Dumbledore chimed before Severus could get a biting comment in. "Severus needs only to allow the mate bond through his defenses so the poor dear can regain her health. Then they can discuss adjusting their schedules to accommodate this new development and lessen the strain on their bond."

"She. Is. My. _Student_." Snape hissed.

Madame Pomfrey looked as if she would suddenly transform into a dragon and roast Severus alive. "She is your _life_!" she seethed. "You insufferably stubborn man! Drop your shields for a moment and you'll know I'm right, Severus!"

" _Absolutely not—_ "

"Severus," Dumbledore interrupted. "It doesn't hurt anyone to test the theory, but doing nothing can and likely will kill her if her current state continues."

A strangled sound left Harry at the same time Severus let out a heavy, annoyed sigh.

"Since I clearly have no choice in the matter," he growled, glaring around the room at each of them in turn.

It didn't seem like Professor Snape had done anything until Hermione suddenly sucked in a sharp breath, followed by a whine as she screwed her eyes shut tighter. Despite being startled by her unexpected reaction, Harry tried to focus on rubbing her back and keeping her upright.

Severus was suddenly blind to the dark look he was receiving from Madame Pomfrey and Albus' worried stare, his gaze —one of muted horror— was stuck on Hermione's miserable form.

As she writhed in pain against Harry, strained mumbles fell from her lips.

"No, no, no, no, no…let them leave! Let them _leave_!"

Madame Pomfrey surged forward and would have been nose to nose with Severus if she wasn't several inches short than him. Despite her smaller stature, she still managed to be intimidating. "For a man with such remarkable self-discipline, one would think you'd had the good sense to _match it_ , Severus! Damaged bonds are impressionable and extremely sensitive to even the slightest of hesitations! You're going to make it think you're _rejecting her_!"

Draco and Harry were surprised when Severus spoke quietly instead of defaulting to his usual waspish self. "She's my student," he repeated, still staring at Hermione with a horrified sort of wonder. "You'll be hard pressed to convince me that she'll be any more content with this situation than I am."

"I can't see how she could be," Poppy agreed snippily. "You've only tormented the poor girl for the entirety of her scholastic career, made sure she knew your approval was out of reach, and chastised her at every opportunity. Everyone from the portraits to the dust mites knows that by now."

Severus frowned thoughtfully. "She's headache-inducing."

Four sets of eyes stared at him for a beat too long, bringing his usual scowl back to the surface. "Any headaches I induce are intentional," he bit out.

"Except this one," Harry muttered bitterly. "Fitting."

Poppy let out a huff of annoyance. "Did you ever stop to think _why_ she got under your skin so easily?" she asked, her tone slightly mocking. Severus' scowl deepened. "I believe it's safe to assume your adverse reactions to Miss Granger were a manifestation of mild MDD. You met her in her first year, but only interacted with her sparsely. Tack on summer hols, an incredibly long separation that has the ability to tax even the strongest and healthiest of bonds, and you already have a recipe for disaster." She shook her head. "Age gaps such as this _are_ rare, as is documentation on how the bond behaves under the circumstances. There are those who admitted to recognizing their young mate instantly. Others did not. Some stuck out from the crowd, but not enough to make the connection obvious." Poppy raised a pointed brow. "I believe that last case should sound familiar to you."

Severus's glare darkened. "Miss Granger stood out because she _made_ herself stand out. Even if you couldn't recognize her hair from miles off, her hand is almost always waving about in class," he said, his voice low. " _Anyone_ would notice an overly anxious know-it-all in a class full of children who consistently failed to do the assigned reading."

"No one is blaming you, Severus," Albus said consolingly. "This has been an unfortunate, if not slightly ironic, turn of events, but the reality of the situation still stands. You and Miss Granger are mates and right now…" His gaze shifted to Hermione's curled up, now quiet, form. "…she thinks you do not want her. Am I wrong in assuming that it is simply the circumstances that you're displeased with?"

Severus's eyes followed Dumbledore's back to Hermione and his scowl deepened. "There is very little about this situation to be _pleased with,_ Headmaster. She's arguably in more danger than Potter," he said. "This will…not be a simple variable to factor into my position."

"I'm certain between the two of you an acceptable solution will arise," Albus said, cheerful for the first time since entering the classroom. "Perhaps, Severus, Misters Potter and Malfoy can assist Miss Granger down to the dungeons for tea? A few restorative potions would likely not be amiss. Nor would some less traumatizing time in your company, I'd imagine."

"I have her next dose of Opius," said Poppy, causing Severus' intense stare to switch back to her.

" _You've been giving Styx's Kiss to an eighteen year old?!_ " he hissed. "Merlin above, Poppy, a dose and a half is enough to give her an addiction!"

His outburst was met by a stony glare. " _Yes_ , I have been. As you're well aware, Severus, Opius Kratus is the only pain potion legal to make and distribute outside of St. Mungo's that has any ability to lessen pain caused by MDD." Folding her arms over her chest, she continued, "I suppose that's another mystery solved. See, the potion is rendered null at seemingly random times for the poor dear, stealing what little relief she might've gotten from it. Just today, I believe she had a dose before heading to your class. A dose that seemed to evaporate from her system before they'd even reached the bottom of the dungeon stairs Mister Malfoy told me. You'll also do well to remember that she hasn't been able to set foot in the Great Hall for over a fortnight."

If looks could kill, Harry was certain the mediwitch would've turned Severus to ashes by now.

"Your magic," the angry witch continued, "canceled itself out, it seems. How peculiar, Severus, is it not?"

"It's not as if I did it consciously," Severus snapped. "Contrary to popular belief, I have no desire to see the girl dead under any circumstances. I will admit that in hindsight, perhaps if you'd been more open about the situation when requesting the potion, we might've discovered this sooner." His expression morphed into a sneer. "It's basic medicinal brewing, is it not? Mate bonds will cancel or enhance the effects of potions depending on the type of potion and status of the bond?"

Ignoring his attempt at calling her medical knowledge into question, Poppy huffed and pulled a small vial from the pocket of her robes, which she gave to Draco before she spoke. "Regardless, if the strain continues, your magic will continue to nullify the potion. And while I doubt a mere hour or two in your charming company will put Miss Granger back to rights, I imagine she'll be better off with little as opposed to none, Severus. She hasn't gotten proper rest since this whole mess started. If nothing else, have heart enough to help the poor thing sleep better tonight."

A heavy silence filled the room for several beats before Severus made a nearly inaudible sound of acquiescence and flashed an expectant glare at Draco and Harry. Without a word, the weightlessness charm on Hermione was recast, and the boys followed Snape to the dungeons.

Hermione sighed against Harry's shoulder, perfectly unconscious and for a time, unaware of the pain that had made her that way.

* * *

 **To those who figured out the occlumency bits, well spotted. But, as Pomfrey said, that's not the _only_ thing working against Severus and Hermione.**


	7. Chapter 7

_'Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome_

 _And I don't feel right when you're gone away_

 _You've gone away, you don't feel me here anymore._

 _The worst is over now and we can breathe again_

 _I wanna hold you high, you steal my pain away_

 _There's so much left to learn, and no one left to fight_

 _I wanna hold you high and steal your pain_

 _Broken – Seether ft. Amy Lee_

* * *

There was a tremor in her hands, despite having snuggly wrapped them around the cup of tea she'd yet to drink from. After regaining consciousness and some semblance of alertness, she had curled up on his sofa, her arms tucked between her chest and her knees, where her hands rested. She'd laid her head against her forearms, gaze blank as she stared into the hearth.

She hadn't said a word, hadn't looked in his direction, since Potter and Malfoy had begrudgingly left her in his care. Poppy, despite the hell she saw fit to give him, had sworn to both boys that Miss Granger couldn't be safer anywhere else, and the whole lot of them kindly got out of his hair.

While her words would've been true from a pure livelihood perspective under normal circumstances, the added reason for their accuracy unsettled him. Of course, she'd be safest with him. How could you be truly safe and secure anywhere _but_ in the presence of one's mate?

He supposed it would be quite some time before his mind made peace with situation the evening had brought to light. Severus had long since stopped thinking about mates and bonds. When he didn't have better things to worry about, the idea had always seemed absurd to him. The absence of a mate from his life had seemed like the universe's way of punishing him for the many mistakes and misdeeds he'd committed, none of which he could atone for.

And yet, here she was.

He watched her, trying to wrap his mind around the school girl he knew and the idea of even having a mate to begin with. Somehow the girl he'd found tiresome for seven years was secretly his most suitable match. She was someone he would grow to love and care for before he could even consider desiring otherwise. The young woman before him and his own abstract idea of his _mate_ were two separate entities, and yet they were the same.

Hermione Granger, the Gryffindor know-it-all, the brains of Minerva's beloved _Golden Trio_ , the insufferable witch he'd taught for seven years, was the young woman he would be —was— unable to live without.

The fates were having a laugh.

Yet as he sat in the armchair across from her, studying her outside of a formal setting like his classroom or Order meetings at Grimmauld Place, he realized, quite harshly, that his luck could've been significantly worse. The circumstances were far from ideal, he could admit, but at least he knew the witch was competent. Powerful. She even had the rare streak of cunning under the right circumstances. She could learn from books, lectures, independent study, and, most importantly, from mistakes. He could teach her and she'd learn. She had the strength for the magic she needed to learn to help her survive the coming war. He could trust her to take care of herself for the most part.

She was capable.

But she was also a muggle-born. That fact alone made his already precarious situation as a double agent all the more dangerous. Unless they won the war, he would have to hide her away forever. No one could know about their bond without making the targets already plastered on both their backs brighter. And if they lost, their connection would be a death sentence for both of them. But if they managed to survive the war as victors, then perhaps their circumstances would find some semblance of balance, if nothing else.

A twisted sort of chance at happiness was dangling before him in the form of a confused and wary eighteen-year-old girl, the Gryffindor princess, the most brilliant witch of her age. His mate.

The most pressing issue he had to deal with for the time being, it seemed, was her reaction to their newly discovered bond and maintaining the bond itself.

"I would free you if I could," she said softly, surprising him out of his thoughts even though his expression remained untelling. "I'm sure there are plenty of other witches you'd have rather been mated to."

Severus frowned. "Miss Granger, any discontent I may feel in this situation stems solely from my trouble adjusting to the fact that you exist to begin with and the dangers that presents," he said slowly. "I expected any matters of identity would greatly affect _you_ , however, and understandably so."

For the first time that evening, her dull, tired eyes met his own. "I didn't think you existed either," she said.

Despite knowing the influence of the bond was far beyond the realm of his control, Severus found himself angry beyond reason when he felt it pull his thoughts and feelings in one direction over another. The desire to accept her words, both spoken and unspoken, as truth despite being baffled that she claimed she didn't care _who_ he was, just as he couldn't be pressed to give a damn who _she_ was, proved to be too difficult to fight off.

"Well then," he said, "I suppose we have a lot to discuss, Miss Granger, if we're going to survive this _and_ the war."

Her expression relaxed slightly. "Hermione, sir, if you'd like, of course."

After a brief hesitation, he nodded. It would be odd to maintain the formalities in private all things considered. "Severus."

The smile she gave him was small and hesitant, but filled him with a foreign sense of accomplishment nonetheless. He would adjust. To her. To the situation. To the bond.

 _They_ would adjust. He'd make sure of it.

* * *

 **How is everyon** **e?**


	8. Chapter 8

_You took my heart and you held it in your mouth_

 _And with a word all my love came rushing out_

 _And every whisper, it's the worst,_

 _Emptied out by a single word_

 _There is a hollow in me now_

 _Sweet Nothing – Calvin Harris ft. Florence Welch_

* * *

Hermione was able to eat in the great hall again, though she was far from being fully recovered. Professor Snape — Severus — had invited her to his rooms a few more times since their first evening together and they managed to establish a somewhat awkward routine. Hermione brought homework with her on their tea nights, tried to keep herself as quiet and unnoticeable as possible, and studied while Severus graded and mostly left her to her own devices. Occasionally he would speak up and ask her something trivial, but otherwise their time in one another's company was nearly silent.

He didn't seem put out by her presence, her existence, but he also didn't seem eager to have her around. Nor did he show any desire to interact with her outside of what was mandatory for their bond. They coexisted occasionally for the sake of keeping themselves alive and nothing more.

Hermione tried to remind herself that the situation could be worse. She also tried to pretend her best friends' relationship wasn't a blinding example of how everything could be better too.

When they weren't focused on individual activities, Severus tried to teach her Occlumency. He'd yet to be summoned since they'd discovered the bond, but since they didn't know whether or not Voldemort would be able to sense her when Severus wasn't occluding their connection, they wanted to make sure Voldemort wouldn't get a direct link into Hermione's mind through Severus'.

Their attempts had been far from successful.

Hermione felt terrible for how she'd treated Harry about his failed lessons in fifth year. Occlumency was hard even when Severus was trying to ease her into the technique.

And that small consideration didn't prevent him from seeing things she'd rather he hadn't.

He saw more instances of muggle children treating her poorly in primary school than she cared to count. He saw her memory of Ronald speaking poorly about her to Harry in first year. He saw her run to the girls' bathroom to cry until the Troll appeared and the idiocy that ensured once Harry and Ron came to her rescue.

He saw her in her half cat state during second year. He saw her struggling to handle the pressure of her third year course load and saw her luring Professor Lupin away from the other's when she and Harry had used the time turner to save Sirius. He saw Ronald's outburst at the Yule Ball. He saw her saying goodbye to Viktor when they both finally acknowledged that her eyes were too dark to match the rings around his. He saw her get hit by Dolohov's curse at the Ministry.

He saw her walk into the Great Hall on the morning of her eighteenth birthday.

Of all the times he'd severed the connection, that was the first time she'd tried to run from him. She hadn't wanted to see him annoyed at the reminder of why he was stuck with her. Or see him look resigned to her presence. Or watch him try not to be impatient while she recovered from reliving the magic-induced migraine.

But the door would not budge when she reached it.

She was shaking too hard to talk and was too much of a coward to turn around. A startled yelp left her when his hand touched her shoulder but her breath caught when a moment later, she was pressed against him. One of his hands made its way into her hair as she went still, too shocked to react. Too stunned to remember how to breathe.

"I didn't know," he said quietly, his voice low with what she thought might have been remorse.

When her lungs remembered how to function, she shakily drew a breath, unintentionally relaxing and leaned into him in the process. Something— the bond? — felt as if the most minute of threads were knitting together. Strengthening a fragile chord. Providing something akin to stability to a force she wasn't sure how to name.

She exhaled. His grip tightened. And she could pretend, for the first time, that she wasn't a burden to him. Even if only for a few moments.

* * *

 _And it's not enough to tell me that you care_

 _When we both know the words are empty air_

 _You give me nothing…_

 _Nothing_

 _Sweet Nothing – Calvin Harris ft. Florence Welch_

* * *

As her Occlumency shields became stronger, more threads stitched together. She wasn't nearly ready to fend off the Dark Lord, but she could keep Severus out for a while without straining herself too much. He never vocalized his approval of her minute accomplishments, but every time it took him a little longer to break through her barriers, she felt some sense of pride as it radiated from his mind to her own for the briefest of moments.

Threads kept stitching.

He started speaking around her more often. Sometimes he would allow a rampant thought or frustration loose. Sometimes he'd throw out an idea in such a way that she couldn't help but give her opinion, which he usually made her defend very thoroughly. Those discussions were pleasant, even when they grew heated. Sometimes he'd end up in lecture mode. Sometimes those lectures became debates.

The days passed. Slowly, the world grew colder. Hermione spent as many evenings in Snape's quarters as he invited her to, though that number was fewer than she was growing to long for. As long as she kept her Occlumency in check, hopefully he would never know that.

Being around others became torment. Even Harry and Draco, both of whom she adored and wished no harm to, made her stomach turn. Ron and Lavender made her head pound. Dean and Seamus made her dizzy. Everyone else just made her tired and furious beyond reason. Envy burned bitter on her tongue during every meal she took in the Great Hall. She marveled at her ability to pretend she wasn't precariously close to losing all good sense during Hogsmeade trips.

None of them knew just how lucky they were. They could spend time with their mates freely. Their mates gave and received unprompted affection, affection period, without a thought. They kept each other near and expressed relief when one returned from being separated for any length of time, and they did more than tolerate one another for the sake of survival or because some thin layer of circumstance-drive fondness was influencing their feelings towards one another.

And because the situation couldn't have been farther out of her control, she pretended. Every day she played her part, pushing dark musings and bitter thoughts from her mind on nights where she saw him and safely tucking her feelings away during the day.

Despite how much it hurt after the fact, she was only able to enjoy herself for any stretch of time if she was with him.

She went to classes.

She went to meals.

She stayed weeks ahead of her peers on her assignments.

No one noticed.

No one saw.

And if they did, they didn't say anything. Not that she wanted them to.

* * *

 **A/N: I didn't forget about you all (technically). Happy Halloween! I'm sick (sympathizing with Hermione rn tbh) but I got a steroid shot and some meds so hopefully by Thursday I'm back to rights.** **I cosplayed Slytherin Hermione at work for Halloween. Anyone else wear/see some awesome costumes?** **Lots of love for all you lovely people.**


	9. Chapter 9

_It's what you do, it's what you see_

 _I know if I'm haunting you, you must be haunting me_

 _It's where we go, it's where we'll be_

 _I know if I'm onto you, I'm onto you_

 _Onto you, you must be on to me_

 _Haunted – Beyoncé_

* * *

Severus sighed quietly as he stepped into the staff room, immediately regretting his promise to Pomona as he crossed the threshold. She wanted to sync a few of their lesson plans again. Foolishly, he'd accepted, and the only break in the schedules that would allow for such a discussion would be that evening.

Naturally, fate had bestowed a throbbing headache upon him to mark the occasion. Though the ache was relatively dull compared to many he'd suffered in the past, it was strong enough to make his stomach twist when he caught the scent of biscuits Minerva had brought up from the kitchens.

He made a mental note to take another anti-nausea potion before dinner if he hoped to eat anything.

"I'm just worried about her, Minerva," he heard Filius say from across the room as Severus busied himself making a cup of tea from the refreshment bar in the back of the room. "She _seems_ like herself but there's something very off about her this term. I'm worried N.E.W.T.s are getting to her."

Without thinking twice, Severus made a mental run through all his female sixth and seventh year students, trying to see if he'd noticed odd behavior from any of them while he stirred cream into his tea. Eyeing the clock briefly, he allowed himself a small bit of relief upon realizing Pomona should be arriving soon. Once their hopefully brief discussion was over, he could go back to his rooms until dinner.

"I've felt the same way," said Minerva, breaking a biscuit into pieces while she frowned in thought. "She just seems to be trying so hard to keep up appearances. I can't help but wonder if it's not classes bothering her at all…"

Severus sipped his tea, frowning. There were so few students who chose to pursue N.E.W.T.s level potions and none of them were coming to mind. He didn't think they could be talking about one of his charges. Though knowing his colleagues' standards, he wondered what course could possibly be causing a young witch such distress if not his own. Minerva's certainly, but the only students she ever had trouble resolving issues with were his Slytherins and he knew none of his sixth and seventh years still taking Transfiguration were having problems.

Septima hummed thoughtfully and gave Minerva a slightly pointed look. "Boy troubles, perhaps? Things seemed to smooth over for a while, I'd thought."

Severus stiffened as her words sunk in, filling him with a sense of dread and unease.

Surely they were not discussing Miss Granger? Not Hermione. Every time he saw her she seemed perfectly normal. In fact, he'd even caught himself foolishly wondering if she might even enjoy his company beyond the level their bond would mandate, as he had grown to with hers.

Severus stayed quiet.

"Well it's not as if anyone _knows_ who her mate is," Minerva said somewhat bitterly. Clearly _not_ knowing what was going on with one of her favorite lions was not sitting well with the Gryffindor head of house. "For all we know they're still separated and Poppy's just found some new potion to help her function through the ordeal."

Severus tried to keep his breathing controlled while his brain kicked into overdrive. He was not sick, yet he felt unwell, _seemingly_ without due cause. The feelings had crept up on him. Fatigue. Annoyance. Nausea. Anger. A persistent, but mild headache. Symptoms, he thought, that lessened when she was near.

But she was always _fine_ when he saw her. She was _fine_ in class. She was damn near _chipper_ when she spent an evening in his rooms with him. Yet they couldn't have been talking about anyone else.

How did he not notice the signs before now?

"Severus?" Minerva called, all but startling him out of his distracted state. "Have you noticed anything unusual about Miss Granger as of late?"

Pomona entered the room as Minerva posed her question, and the plump witch chimed in before he could even think to answer.

"Have you noticed, too?" she asked. "I thought I was reading too deeply into things. You know how studious she is, and with it being her N.E.W.T.s year I figured she'd be frazzled on principle. I just get the sense that something is…off about her lately. And she seemed to be doing so well suddenly, too."

The others murmured in agreement, but Minerva was still patiently waiting for Severus to give his opinion on the subject.

Lies, he decided, were best told when they were thoroughly blended with truth.

"I haven't particularly thought about it," he said. "I expect a certain level of near-insanity from N.E.W.T.s students who actually apply themselves. If anything I'd say she's handling her N.E.W.T.s with far more grace than she handled her O.W.L.s."

There were some murmured concurrences and Severus took advantage of the sudden lapse in gossip to remind Pomona why they were there. After discussing the matter of the next week's lessons in record time, he ignored the speculation behind him —which had turned into a game of deductions concerning the identity of Miss Granger's mate — and all but fled from the staff room.

Once he made it to an empty corridor, he disillusioned himself and stalked towards the Heads' dormitory.

Something was wrong with his witch and he intended to fix it.

* * *

 **AN: Thank you for the well wishes everyone. I'm doing much better, though my voice seems to be running off. Here's yesterday's update :)**


	10. Chapter 10

_Oh damn, oh damn, oh damn_

 _I'm so perplexed_

 _With just one breath, I'm locked in_

 _Oh damn, oh damn, oh damn_

 _I'm so perplexed, oh, that it's almost shocking_

 _I know, I know you know you're scared_

 _Your heart, your mind, your soul, your body, yeah_

 _They won't, they won't, they won't be careful_

 _But I guess that you don't know me_

 _Close – Nick Jonas Ft Tove Lo_

* * *

Harry and Draco shared a wary glance as Severus glared at them.

"What do you mean she _isn't here_? Where else would she be!" he snapped.

Draco shrugged. "Last we saw her was at lunch. Said she was going to use the free period to study. Didn't specify where she'd be."

With a growl of frustration, Severus stormed out of the room as quickly as he'd stormed in. The boys looked at each other again.

"Map?" asked Draco.

Harry frowned towards the empty doorway and nodded. "Map."

* * *

 _Crashing, hit a wall_

 _Right now I need a miracle_

 _Hurry up now, I need a miracle_

 _Stranded, reaching out_

 _I call your name but you're not around_

 _I say your name but you're not around_

 _Don't Let Me Down – The Chainsmokers ft. Daya_

* * *

The forbidden forest was quiet. Peaceful.

Hermione walked and walked and walked until her legs started to burn with overexertion. Only then did she turn and head back towards the castle.

It was late, but the only class she had the next day wasn't until after lunch. She could sleep in. It gave her an excuse to avoid the Great Hall.

When she'd successfully snuck back into the school and up to her dorm, she had no idea what time it was, only that the boys had long since gone to sleep. Somehow managing to feel just as left out as she'd felt when she left, Hermione laid down and closed her eyes.

Sleep came slowly and chose to be as restless as her waking hours had been.

* * *

 **A/N: This isn't the last short chapter (12 is the next one), but it is the _shortest_ of them all, which is why it's a Sunday bonus chapter. (I felt like I'd be jipping you guys if I posted this on Tuesday).**

 **Love you all, as always.**


	11. Chapter 11

_Drop down your defenses, I'm raising my flag_

 _This fighting is hopeless, we need this to end_

 _It's going too far, don't know where it began_

 _We're hurting each other and I can't pretend_

 _I'm trying to help you to see_

 _The casualties that we both leave_

 _It's all so unnecessary_

 _Can't you hear me scream?_

 _Cease Fire — Christina Aguilera_

* * *

Time and circumstances kept him from tracking her down until she had no choice but to be in his presence by attending class.

Even with her nearby, he was in a foul temper.

The miniscule signs that all was not well with the witch were glaringly obvious to him now. She raised her hand just often enough so he wouldn't question her behavior. Every gesture calculated. Every note taken with just the right amount of attentive energy to go unnoticed.

It grated on his nerves for the entire two-and-a-half-hour period. When he dismissed her classmates, he all but growled at her to stay behind, which she did warily. Draco and Potter hesitated at the door just long enough to earn a sharp glare and a threat to their respective house points. With an impatient flick of his wand, the doors warded behind them.

"You are not well," he said slowly, making an attempt to reign in his temper.

She frowned at him from where she'd stopped halfway up the steps. "I'm fine, Sir."

" _You are not_ ," he hissed, glaring up at her. " _Come here_."

Her steps were far too slow for his liking, making him grind his teeth as she neared.

"Are _you_ alright?" she asked softly once she'd reached the base of the stairs. "I…I don't mind skipping tea tonight if you're not feeling well."

His eyes narrowed. "Looking for excuses to flee, are we?"

Her surprise was so clearly genuine that he allowed himself to think she was just concerned on his behalf, if only for a moment.

She chewed on her bottom lip. "Not at all. I just don't want to crowd you if I'm not wanted."

Something about her choice of words gave him pause. "Pray tell…" he said slowly, stalking forward until they were inches apart, "where you got the idea that you might be _unwanted_?"

He might have taught her basic occluding, but she'd yet to learn how to cover her panic, and for that he was grateful.

She started to open her mouth, but he cut her off. " _Do. Not. Lie. To me._ " He growled. " _Where_ did you get the idea that I do not want you?"

Her jaw snapped shut as she looked away, choosing to stare at a far wall instead of meeting his gaze.

" _Hermione—_ "

"Why would you?" she said, her voice as small as it was bitter. "You've never liked me and I'll never expect you to. You were guilted into letting down your shields so I wouldn't _die_ from MDD when you would've been _fine_ otherwise and were getting on _perfectly well_ without me!"

He stared at her, somewhat shocked by her outburst and wondering where her vehement accusations stemmed from.

He invited her to tea every time their schedules aligned, even if she spent every moment in his rooms studying or working away at some assignment or another, because he _wanted_ to. He left her be when he knew she was busy, even when he wanted to offer her a study space nearer to him than her friends. _He_ tried not to crowd _her_ lest she find him even less desirable of a mate than she surely already did, or at least ought to.

But he _certainly_ wasn't guilted into spending time with her just because of the events that had taken place earlier in the year.

"You are the brightest witch of your age, Miss Granger, or so Minerva loves to claim," he said slowly. "How could you possibly be quite so blind?"

Her eyes snapped to his, her stare as piercing and fiery as it was misty. " _Blind_? To what, _Sir_? What could possibly be appealing about being bound to a witch half your age, who's the best friend of the son of your former nemesis? Why would _anyone_ be happy about being trapped with an insufferable, know-it-all, frizzy haired, _mud—_ "

"No!" He snarled. "Don't _ever_ use that word in reference to yourself!" When she didn't respond, he bit out a low, "Am I _clear_?"

"Crystal," she said, though it sounded like she was appeasing him. The last bits of his patience evaporated.

"What brought this on?" he asked, his voice hard. "Where is this coming from, witch?"

"It's nothing worthy of your time," she said.

"I'll judge that for myself, Miss Granger, as your mental faculties are _clearly_ in questionable order tonight."

She glared at him again and he raised an impatient brow. "Don't make me take the answers from you," he warned. "Our relationship is brittle enough without adding 'forced legilimency' to the list of roadblocks in our path."

"You wouldn't," she said lowly.

"Something is bothering you, stubborn witch. _Do. Not._ _Presume._ That I won't employ every method in my power to discover the reason behind your discontent."

The tears in her eyes threatened to spill as her voice shook. "Stop pretending you care."

He wanted to rip his hair out. "Have you _ever_ known me to be the sort of person who hides their true feelings on a matter?" He asked, purposefully letting more of his frustration seep into his tone to prove his point. " _Pretending_ is something I reserve for the Dark Lord."

Her jaw locked and he could see her swallowing words he wanted to dare her to say. Instead, he ground his teeth and tried to checked his temper.

"What makes you think I'm indifferent, witch?" he asked.

Her lips quivered in spite of the tensed muscles in her jaw. "Why wouldn't you be?"

He let out a sigh that sounded like a growl. "You are my _mate._ Why _would_ I?!" he snarled. "For Merlin's sake, witch, tell me what's causing this so I can bloody well fix it!"

She took a step back from him, shaking her head. "No. You are not obligated to—"

"Of course I'm not _obligated_ to look after you!" he shouted. "You are _mine_ , witch! Mine to look after, mine to fret over, mine to tend to! I couldn't be _unconcerned_ if I wished and I _don't_ wish!"

They stared at one another, his chest heaving with frustration and her lips trying to twitch into a frown. Her expression was entirely blank save for the two tears that finally spilled down her cheeks, and he came to a sudden realization.

"You don't believe me," he said.

She swallowed and the motion looked painful. "No," she said thickly.

He inhaled slowly, straightening as he held her gaze. "I'm sorry," he said, and he meant it.

She squinted in confusion. "Why—"

He would hate himself he knew, but she clearly wasn't going to cooperate enough to help him mend what was broken between them.

"Legilimens."

* * *

 **A/N: -twiddles thumbs- Hullo...**


	12. Chapter 12

_How did you break my heart without even trying?_

 _How are you on my mind? You're not even talking to me_

 _You were made of matches, and you burned me to the ground_

 _You were made of matches, and you burned me down_

 _Matches – Cash Cash & ROZES_

* * *

His stomach twisted and tightened painfully as a barrage of scenes, emotions, and ideas rushed from her mind to his. A poison cloud of longing, shame, guilt, and envy coiled like smoke and choked him as it caused splitting fissures that spread fire through his skull.

Oh, how wrong his witch was.

He broke the spell almost instantly, though it did nothing to ease the lingering pain and frustration he felt. _Her_ pain and frustration.

When he'd regained his bearings, Hermione was very obviously debating bolting for the door as if running away from him had worked thus far.

"Don't even think about it," he said, knowing she would, and lunging forward in time to catch her by the arm.

She was weak, as he was, from the pain they'd just shared but he was less affected, making it easy to tug her back down the one step she'd managed to climb. Under different circumstances, her display of self-preservation as opposed to the typical unyielding Gryffindor martyr mentality, would amuse him but at present, he just wanted her to stop hiding things from him.

He pulled her against his chest before she could think to fight back and once she registered what he'd done, her struggling was weak at best.

"Let go!" she wailed. "I don't want it if it's not real!"

His arms only tightened around her. "It is real. _We_ are real, Hermione," he said, but his words did little to calm her near-hysterics. "There is something wrong here, my witch, and I intend to figure out what. MDD should no longer be a factor, yet we're still suffering from it."

He cast a light sedation charm on her to prevent her from hyperventilating and she sagged against him, limbs trembling. He frowned as he bent down to hook an arm under her knees and lift her. She was more worn out than she seemed, apparently.

"We'll fix this," he promised, knowing she wasn't fully lucid. "But this is real, my witch. I swear it."

* * *

 **A/N: Two chapters left...**

 **That's sort of a lie. The first 14 chapters are "Part 1". I haven't finished "Part 2". I'll give you guys more details at the end of 14 (since idk when Part 2 will be finished).**


	13. Chapter 13

_Why am I so emotional?_

 _No, it's not a good look, gain some self-control_

 _And deep down I know this never works_

 _But you can lay with me so it doesn't hurt_

 _Oh, won't you stay with me?_

 _Cause you're all I need_

 _This ain't love, it's clear to see_

 _But darling, stay with me_

 _Stay With Me – Sam Smith_

* * *

Had the circumstances been different, Poppy might have found comfort or amusement in how possessive Severus had become of Hermione. As it was, the young witch hadn't been awake for more than a few moments at a time over the past forty-eight hours and even when she did stir, she was hardly coherent.

Severus was as vicious as anyone had ever seen him. He had, unwillingly, tried to teach his courses throughout the week, but hadn't even made it out of his quarters – as the situation prevented them from migrating Hermione to the Hospital wing – before nearly collapsing.

He'd described the pain as worse than any bout of the Cruciatus he had ever experienced and planted himself at his mate's side thereafter. He didn't sleep. He barely ate. He would only accept coffee or tea from the elves, but aside from snapping at people not to crowd Hermione or fuss over her, he was bitter and silent.

At least, when others were around.

When Poppy would leave for the night, his expression would soften from angry to worried and anxious. He'd change into more comfortable clothes than his teaching robes and resume his post beside his witch, wracking his mind for things he could do or try that would bring her back to him.

The first night he summoned and scoured books from his personal library. The second, he tried inventing spells to repair the progress they'd made with their bond. On the third, he tried tweaking his occlumency shields.

He knew that putting them up full force would hurt them both and make things worse, but if there was ever a time he'd feel comfortable lowering more layers, it was alone with his in the privacy of his warded rooms. He'd never lowered his shields completely since he'd began spying for Dumbledore, making the experience anxiety inducing to say the least, but he'd try anything to wake her up.

Right now, anything meant lowering his shields layer by layer, pausing to let his nerves settle when his instincts told him to throw them back up, and watching his witch for changes.

There were none.

He let down more of his shields _slowly_ , as the deeper he dug at his defenses the more stubborn they became. But as they fell, the bond, weak though it was, started to feel different. Not stronger, there were too many threads that were no longer interwoven, but…wider almost. Like a tunnel had widened in diameter, allowing for more information, or magic in his case, to travel unhindered. He could feel _her_ , barely at first, then more strongly as he laid the last of his defenses to rest. It was an uncomfortable feeling, being so exposed, but the warmth radiating from the bond he shared with the witch beside him was more than enough of a reward to soothe his paranoid mind for now.

She was still sleeping, but her brows had drawn together slightly and he could feel her curiosity as if it were his own. It was a struggle not to let his emotions hide away in the back of his mind, but she needed to feel them, needed to feel that he _wanted her_ , for herself. It was uncomfortable, just as laying his shields down had been, but again the warmth of their bond spread through him, rewarding him, it seemed. Providing encouragement to continue doing what must be helping her, or at least, had put him on the path towards helping her.

Longing and guilt overwhelmed him, but he let the sensations run rampant while he tried to direct them towards her, ignoring how his eyes burned and his throat tightened. He hadn't cried in _years_ , but pride was far from his primary concern. She was his, his life as Poppy had snapped at him. His _chance_ Albus had tried to tell him later, in private. His redemption.

He still didn't believe Albus, but Poppy was correct. Fate or whatever powers controlled the universe had given him a witch, a mate, to call his own. One who would claim him in return. One who would, he hoped, offer forgiveness for his mistakes instead of abandoning him for them. One clever enough to keep up with him, competent enough that he planned to teach her how to brew potions of his own invention, and pretty enough to unearth insecurities he'd thought he'd laid to rest decades prior.

He'd been given a reason to survive the war and he intended to keep it.

It could have been minutes or hours that he sat there gently coaxing his feelings towards her before anything changed. It happened slowly. The threads and tendrils of magic that had pulled away hesitantly stretched towards him and he tried to keep their connection steady while encouraging this new development. Time crawled.

The threads of magic from her side of the connection suddenly felt like they were hesitating and he tried not to panic. He only relaxed minutely when her eyes fluttered open and found his own.

"You're tired," she whispered. "You need to sleep."

He almost snorted at the absurdity of the situation. She falls into a magic induced coma because she's convinced he neither wants nor cares about her, yet the first thing she does upon waking is scolds him for not getting enough sleep. He wondered if she was truly so blind to his side of the bond that she couldn't sense _why_ he was sleep deprived in the first place.

"I need _you,_ witch," he said gruffly. "How could I possibly sleep knowing you may never wake?" She frowned at him and he raised a brow. "You've convinced yourself so thoroughly that I could never want you that you never stopped to _ask._ "

She looked away. "I didn't want to take advantage of the effects of the bond. I was afraid I'd overstep..."

His brow arched higher. "And what, my witch, do you think I was doing? Knitting doilies for the house elves?"

Her lips almost twitched into a smile and he rolled his eyes. Her hesitation was still clear when he mentally felt for their bond again.

"I'm going to prove a point and you're going to let me," he said firmly. "Scoot over, if you truly wish for me to sleep."

In the future, when their bond was significantly less fragile, he would mercilessly tease her for the comically shocked expression on her face. Tonight, he only wanted to focus on keeping his shields down and repairing the remaining tattered strands of magic between them.

"You're going to wake up tomorrow," he said, his tone equal parts pleading and demanding.

She gave him a confused pout as she shuffled over, giving him room to lay beside her. "How long was I asleep?"

He hid a wince by closing the gap she'd created between them and resting his head just above hers on the pillow. "We'll worry about that in the morning."

He waited for her to relax against him before closing his eyes, and for the first time in days, he slept.

* * *

 _I miss you, yeah, yeah_

 _After all that we've been through_

 _I never told you that I do_

 _But I miss you, ooh_

 _Even after all this time_

 _I got your body on my mind_

 _I Miss You – Grey Ft. Bahari_

* * *

Poppy's heart stopped in the moment between entering Severus' chambers the next morning and the time it took her to register that the still bodies in the bed were still breathing. Severus hadn't curled up with his mate to die, they were just resting. She thanked Circe profusely.

Her heart was still hammering when Albus, who had been several paces behind her, appeared.

"Are they alright?" He asked.

"They don't seem worse," she muttered, drawing her wand with shaking fingers and casting several diagnostic charms in quick succession. "I'm glad he decided to lay with her, though. The closeness may help her subconscious recognize that he does want her."

Albus hummed quietly while Poppy focused on her spellwork and ventured deeper into the room. He stopped on Hermione's side of the bed, studying the two intently. Hermione had the fabric of Severus' sleeve clutched in one hand, almost as if she subconsciously thought he'd vanish if she let go. The sight both warmed and saddened Albus.

"I hope we live to see the day when they have the same unwavering faith in one another's presences as their fellow mated wizards do," he said quietly.

"I hope they live to reach that day," said Poppy, frowning at the results of her charms. "Albus?"

"Yes, my dear?"

"Check his mark, please."

Albus shot her a concerned glance. "Madame?"

Her lips were pressed thin. "I have a diagnostic charm just for Severus that tells me if he's being summoned, that way I know when to give him the antidote for dreamless sleep so he doesn't end up worse than how he usually arrives in my care," she said slowly. "It will tell me if there's been an attempted summons as well. There was, but it ended more abruptly than any summons I've ever read off him…"

Albus raised a patient brow. "And you have a hunch, my dear?"

Her eyes were unreadable when she met his gaze. "I dare not speak it aloud, Albus."

Appeasing her, Albus drew his wand and waved it. Severus' sleeve gently rolled itself up, exposing his left forearm and stunning Albus into silence. Poppy rounded the bed and found her suspicions confirmed.

"How?" Albus murmured. "Lucius Malfoy's mark is intact and it's no secret that Narcissa wishes it had vanished when their alliances changed. How is his gone?"

Poppy shook her head, unsure, but smiled nonetheless. "You seem to have lost your spy, Albus. Although I think he's done far more from that perspective than we ever thought he might." She paused when Hermione stirred slightly, a quiet whine leaving her throat as she pressed even closer to Severus. Her hand moved from his sleeve to his ribs before clawing the fabric of his shirt again. Severus' brow furrowed slightly, but aside from readjusting his grip to hold her closer in return, he was still.

"He's free now," said Poppy. "Let them sleep. I'll let the elves know to alert me when they're up."

* * *

 **A/N: I remembered and then forgot to update yesterday. So instead I update on my birthday, lol. Last chapter of Part 1 tomorrow~**

 **Also, fun fact, that crazy Ravenclaw Disillusionist9? (the claw this story was written for) I pick that awesome claw up from the airport in a few days. :D We'll probably do something over on Tumblr. And it's my 21st so tipsy ask games are 100% a possibility. It should be a blast, so come say hi!**


	14. Chapter 14

_Sweet love, sweet love, trapped in your love_

 _I've opened up unsure I can trust_

 _My heart and I were buried in dust_

 _Free me, free us_

 _You're all I need when I'm holding you tight_

 _If you walk away I will suffer tonight_

 _Bound to You – Christina Aguilera_

* * *

Severus sat before the fire in his sitting room pensively, his right thumb sliding over the smooth, unmarred skin of his forearm almost absently as the flames danced in front of him. He had fallen asleep worried for his mate, awaken with her already conscious, if not groggy and still slightly disoriented, and free of the mark that had bound him to his infernal master.

As both Hermione and Severus had been asleep during the entirety of the process, Poppy's running theory was that the Dark Lord had attempted to summon Severus while their magic was tangled. The result had been panic on both sides of their bond, namely Hermione's, as the dark foreign magic had attempted to pull Severus awake and away from her. Hermione's magic had likely surged in, severed the connection to cease any pain Severus had been feeling, and _somehow_ obliterated the grotesque magic worked into the dark mark successfully.

Poppy was still trying to figure out just _how_ that last part was feasible.

"Lucius Malfoy still bears his mark," Severus had pointed out. "They defected for Draco and Narcissa never wanted him bound to the Dark Lord to begin with."

"But Lucius doesn't feel the pain of summons," Poppy had argued back. "For all we know the connection _is_ severed, but the full extent of the magical signature of that blasted curse wasn't destroyed in the process."

Severus counted his blessings while wondering if they could prove Poppy's theory and, if so, would Lucius Malfoy consider muggle means of tattoo removal if necessary to remove the rest of the brand from his person.

All Severus knew was that while he still had a war to fight, he could _breathe_. Never again would he be forced to answer his master's call. Never again would he _have_ a master.

Unless of course, his witch counted, since he was still bound to her, after all.

And now he could _truly_ feel her.

Since insanity and brilliance often run in the same circles, Tom Riddle had been both clever enough and neurotic enough to make his mark deadly if bestowed upon a muggle born. Severus assumed that particular bit of spell work was as much of a precautionary measure as it was a gamble. It kept the inner circle 'as clean as one could expect given the times' and ensured that if a muggle born _did_ worm their way into Riddle's ranks, an example would be made.

 _They can pretend to be like us_ , he would likely hiss under such circumstances. _But no matter how hard they try, they'll never succeed._

Severus counted a few more blessings when he remembered that 'safety net' of the mark after Poppy had left his chambers earlier in the morning. He and Hermione would have dropped dead during her first potion lesson seven years prior if the hex had been able to come _through_ the bond and kill her, him following closely after, if not immediately.

Instead, he'd been unable to feel the bond at all, except for mate deprivation-like symptoms. The strain on their bond due to the dark mark had caused him torment, though at the time he hadn't understood why one eleven year old girl with untamable hair had affected him so. He'd grown to loath her, wrongly label her as unnecessary in his mind, and due to her lack of magical maturity, Hermione had been blind to the bond as well.

Until her birthday, when Tom Riddle's bigoted, idiotic, _ridiculous_ failsafe was finally able to prey upon her as well.

Severus' blood boiled as he, almost without trying, was able to feel the unobstructed bond connecting him to Hermione. If he gave it more than a moment's concentration, he could almost feel the ghost of her pulse like a quiet, steady drumming in the back of his mind.

Before, when he felt for her it was as if he were peering through a very small keyhole, a claustrophobic tunnel that allowed very little wiggle room, not at all unlike the sensation of apparation. Now, it felt as if they might not even be separate people. His occlumency shields did not shut her out in the damaging way they had previously, but did provide them with privacy. If they both reached out, they could speak from across his chambers without ever having uttered a sound. A quick experiment with Albus had, to Severus' great relief and pleasure, proved that _his_ shields merged with hers against external assailants.

Any other witch might learn that she didn't need to study occlumency so long as she stayed near her mate and immediately stop obtaining instruction. Hermione, of course, was determined to be able to guard her own mind in the event that they were separated. Thankfully, her typically unhindered access to the majority of _his_ mind meant she could feel how his shields were erected for herself, and she'd figured out how to mimic them by the third time Albus had unsuccessfully attempted legilimency on them.

Severus could only partially bring himself to care who'd been covering his classes. If the newness and comfort that came with having a proper, healthy bond to one's mate ever wore off, then perhaps he'd be more concerned, but he doubted such would be the case.

Draco still looked at Lily's son as if he'd hung the stars of the constellation he was named after by hand after painstakingly creating each one, regardless of whether the two were quarrelling or not. Nevermind the slew of mated students he'd never paid attention to that had also lost their wits as they'd lost their hearts.

The atmosphere around him shifted slightly. Just enough for his senses to heighten, enough for him realize Hermione was nearer now than she had been moments prior. Glancing over his shoulder, he found her standing in the doorway, unsure, and hadn't fully registered the invitation he had planned to extend verbally before it was received telepathically.

There were worse learning curves, he decided. She couldn't doubt that he wanted her near when she could feel it for herself, unfiltered, in the privacy of their minds.

"How are you feeling?" he asked quietly once she'd sat beside him on the rug. It was only her second day awake, including the day he'd woken up markless, and she was still recovering.

Where he only felt some semblance of residual soreness as an after effect of the dark mark, Hermione had been put through hell while living with a nearly one-sided mate bond. She'd need a few more days to get her bearings, which he selfishly planned to spend watching over her.

"Better," she said quietly, answering him after several moments of silence.

He stopped toying with his forearm, determined not to obsessively reassure himself that the mark was truly gone, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. The accompanying rush of warmth and endorphins, courtesy of their bond, made them scoot closer to one another.

Severus suddenly remembered the conversation he'd had with Dumbledore earlier that morning with a slight frown. Albus had made a fair point, however, as it would be difficult for him to go back to his normal routine, and Hermione to hers, when they needed to prioritize the health of their relationship.

"I assume you've made plans for after graduation?" he asked her. "Or at least have some idea of what you'd like to do when the war ends?"

The 'if' in his statement went unspoken, but she heard it nonetheless.

"Nothing practical," Hermione answered bitterly, thinking back on more than one discussion with her head of house concerning the same topic. "Ronald wants to be an auror, of course, and expects Harry to follow him. I'm not sure what Harry wants aside from something quiet."

He rolled his eyes. "Because you'll be trailing after those two forever, naturally."

"No," she muttered, nudging him in the ribs for his sarcasm. "But it's been explained to me _several times now_ that my _preferred_ career path is neither a field in which women succeed nor conducive to pursue in Britain. I've yet to come up with something else."

He glanced down at her, though she was glaring at the flames and didn't notice his half hopeful, half shocked expression. "You want to go into _Potions_?"

His voice betrayed him, as did, he assumed, their bond, and Hermione glanced up at him with flushed cheeks. "Well, yes," she mumbled. "It's challenging. Interesting."

Severus tried hard to fight the urge to laugh, but a smirk still managed to tug at his lips. "And Minerva suggested you try another industry? Transfiguration, perhaps?"

Hermione frowned at him. "You're laughing at me."

"I'm laughing at _Minerva_ ," he corrected. "Surely she's told you her concerns?"

Still frowning, Hermione nodded slowly, clearly confused. "Well, there's only four potions masters in Britain, for starters, yourself included, of course."

He bit the inside of his cheek, certain she wouldn't take kindly to him laughing in her face. "I'd noticed."

Glaring at him, she continued, "And she didn't think any of them would accept a female student."

"She knew the other three wouldn't. She suspected _I'd_ refuse to accept _you_ specifically," he clarified, still smirking. "That point is neither accurate nor moot."

"Hardly!" she argued. "It's compromising enough that I'm still a student _now_. I can't imagine what the Prophet would say about an apprenticeship."

He raised an eyebrow, still resisting the urge to snort. "They'd fawn over such a traditionalist attitude." When she stared blankly at him, he sighed and grumbled, "There really ought to be a wizarding culture class for muggle borns," before launching into a more thorough explanation. "It was common practice, especially in the past, for a wizard to take his witch's magical education into his own hands, especially if he had already obtained a mastery. The apprenticeship period was even used to define the scope of an engagement. Once the witch completed her training, in some cultures that added to the 'quality' of her womanly status. Masteries were often officially completed and celebrated in conjunction with the couple's nuptials, as a result."

Hermione's cheeks were even darker in the firelight and he finally chuckled. "Did you only just now realize that we're quite thoroughly stuck with each other?"

"No!" she snapped, embarrassed, and looked away. "It's just... _you're_ comfortable with the idea which isn't...It just seems backwards. It's...difficult trying to anticipate how you'll react to things. Instinct says one thing; the bond says another."

"You freed me from a madman _in your sleep_ ," he reminded her. "A madman who was indirectly suppressing our connection. There's still a learning curve ahead of us. One that will be helped along if we see each other more often than our current schedules will allow."

She gave him another confused stare and he felt his brow twitch upward again.

"Albus, meddling old fool that he is, thinks you should take your N.E.W.T.s early. He was hoping you'd be interested in a teacher's assistant position, which would of course be in my classroom, but hopes you might be more interested in a potions mastery to make that arrangement less glaringly transparent," Severus continued.

"He's not very subtle," she muttered.

He snorted. "Not particularly, no. I do agree with him as far as your exams are concerned. You could have passed them in your fourth year if we'd let you try. It's insulting to your intelligence to have you finish a school year you don't need."

Her cheeks pinkened again. "And I'd start my potions mastery immediately after? With you?"

He gave her a look. "No, I was thinking one of the sexist fools should be responsible for your training, even though they're all pitiful excuses for _masters_ on a good day."

"I get the most modest of the bunch, then. Excellent," she quipped, quirking a brow of her own and pulling another chuckle from him.

"I never claimed to be modest, witch. I'm sure you've enough unnecessary social Gryffindorisms for us both," he said.

"Well, I am supposed to be your _better_ half."

He hid a smile by pressing his lips to her hair, which still smelled faintly of the vanilla shampoo Potter had brought from her rooms the day before. The quiet assault of endorphins and contentment the bond rewarded his action with was overwhelming, but he wouldn't trade it for anything.

He'd drown in her so long as no one took her from him. Thinking of all the times he'd saved Potter's arse, and hers by default, he held her a little tighter. She could have passed through these halls and left without him ever knowing who she was, without him having the chance to revel in the only good thing life had bestowed upon him.

He would drown in her and she in him until together they relearned how to breathe. Because they already knew that they could only truly suffocate if they were separated.

* * *

 **A/N: I can't believe Part 1 is over already! Thank you guys so much for reading along. You're just the loveliest bunch.**

 **I promised details about Part 2, so here they are:**

 **I don't know when I'll finish writing Part 2, so I don't know when I'll start posting it. If Part 1 focused on bringing Severus and Hermione together (and revealing the bond) then Part 2 can be described as their actual romance arc, as well as addressing the ramifications of Severus's sudden, unplanned defection from the Death Eaters properly, and finishing out the war. More happens. Severus and Hermione might even actually _kiss_ or something. I don't really write smut, but when I say romance arc, I'm throwing "lust" under that umbrella as well as all the lovey dovey stuff we're all here for, yeah?**

 **THIS FIC WILL BE MARKED COMPLETE UNTIL I BEGIN POSTING PART 2 - Part 2 has so far been written as a continuation of this fic, with "Chapter 15" starting a few days after the end of this chapter. I only have about 3-4 chapters written so far of Part 2. I'm very busy until the year ends, and next term is my last official term before I graduate (college, I'm almost done with a 2 year degree) so I'll have very little writing time.**

 **THAT SAID. I pick Disillusionist9 up from the airport tommorrow. If you haven't followed us on tumblr, we'll be up to some shenanigans and might stream some video games or something. We don't know what we'll do yet. It may only end up being a weekend long "drunk/tipsy" asks games session. Who knows, but you guys should TOTALLY come say hi. Come ask me things about Part 2 if you want. I'll avoid fully answering truly spoiler-y questions, but I'll try to answer what I can! :)**

 **Otherwise, I will see you lovely people when Part 2 debuts!**

 **xoxo**

 **~K**


End file.
